𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐥𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ／ j.h

𝐢𝐢𝐢.

𝒉𝒐𝒘 𝒅𝒐 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒅𝒆𝒂𝒍 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝒄𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒅𝒔
𝒋𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒂𝒌𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒚?

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The night sky covered Los Angeles like a blanket, but one who didn't exactly did its job ㅡ it was still cold as fuck.

James smiled to himself as he read the letter for the thirteenth time, even predicting some of its words while at it, laughing again at her jokes.

His favorite had to be the Sally one, since she mentioned it in certain parts of the letter, as if it was an inside joke between her and whoever was reading it. James was thankful to be the one chosen by fate.

Even if he didn't exactly know that Lexie girl, he felt like she was the only person he could relate to. They had similar pet peeves, and both were angry at the world for their own special reasons.

For the first time in many years, he felt like someone could understand him.

He laughed to himself, not noticing Kirk's presence in his bedroom door. "Oh God, he's gone completely insane. What are you laughing about?"

"Nothin'." He snorted a bit.

Kirk shrugged. "Okay. Do you wanna come hang out with us at the bar?"

"Nah. I'm fine," He waved the curly one off, but before he could leave, James called him again. "Hey, Kirk."

"Wassup?" He came back.

"Why did Sally fall off the swing?" James asked, already looking like he was about to burst out laughing.

"I don't know, James. Why did she?"

"She had no arms."

James' thunderous laughter echoed through the whole room, surprising Kirk who hadn't seen him laugh like that in a while. But then, he just shook his head negatively, leaving the still laughing-his-ass-off Hetfield in his room.

When he found himself alone again, he decided to continue reading the letter, until something suddenly clicked in his mind.

He grabbed the paper wrapper, slapping his own forehead after finding the address right on its front. "I'm a fucking dumbass."

Surprisingly, it wasn't that far away from their house. He calculated it with the help of his slender fingers, coming to the conclusion that a thirty-minute drive would get him there.

That, plus the fact that he was dying out of curiosity to meet this Lexie chick. He wasn't certain if she was gone, nor was he sure if she was alive, and that uncertainty made his brain do cartwheels inside of his head. He just had to have an answer to his questions.
So, it wasn't newspaper when he woke up in the next morning all gleeful. "Good morning!"

Lars, who still was hungover out of his mind, looked up at him with irritation written all over his face. "Fock, no. I don't have the patience for morning bliss."

"What a shame, Larsie." James pouted jokingly, pouring himself a cup of fresh-made coffee. "I'm specially blissful this mornin'."

"Yeah? Then go fock yourself." Ulrich finished his own coffee, rolling his eyes at Jason, who had his face flat on the table, sleeping peacefully.

"Let him be, Lars," Kirk added, appearing out of thin air wearing a white robe. "Not everybody can be dickheads twenty-four seven, y'know?"

James highfived him, chuckling at the sight of the very pissed off drummer. "I'll stab you both with a fockin' spoon."

"But that's not scientifically possible..." Jason said, waking up slowly with a line of drool on the side of his mouth.

Lars just rolled his eyes, only now realizing that James was well-dressed. "Where are ya goin', Jame?"

"Somewhere away from your ugly face." He replied casually, putting his black, leather jacket on.

"No, you're not." Lars quickly caught up on his bandmate's thoughts, standing up to face him. "I already told ya that I'm not gonna let ya."

James looked down at him, raising one of his eyebrows. "And what are ya gonna do to stop me?"

"I don't know, something! But I won't let you walk out that door." Now, not only Lars was pissed, but James too.

And his red ears denunciated that. "Sorry, amigo, but I've already made up my mind. Besides, I'm a grown-ass man. You don't have to babysit me."

Lars stared at him in disbelief as he made his way to the door, stopping dead in his tracks when the danish spoke. "Look, I've already lost one of my best friends. I don't want to go through that shit again."

Jason and Kirk stared at each other, ready to hide behind the kitchen's counter in case all hell broke loose.
James just gulped, closing his eyes before drowning his anger; he couldn't be mad at Lars. He was just worried about him. He should be thankful.

"I'll be home before dinner." Was all that he said before walking out the door.

The letter was still dearly clung by his hand inside of his jacket pocket as he made his way towards a cabstand, since he preferred to leave the car to the boys in case of emergency.

He didn't wait too long for a taxi to arrive, and when it did, he went into it like a fucking lightning, surprising the driver. "G-good morning, sir!"

"Good mornin'. Could you, uhhh..."

He struggled a bit to take the letter out of the pocket where it was safely hidden. When he took it out, he showed the address to the driver, who was as confused as a blind man in the middle of a mass shooting.

"Can you take me to this place?"